Digital Crush
by BeGodlyBeLynn
Summary: When all things fall apart, sometimes you just need a distraction. Summer never thought she'd fall in love with a simulation, but romance counts as a distraction, too. When it all ends, though, will she be able to move along?
1. The Last Song

**A/N: I love Sergeant Montgomery. Too bad he's a soldier who's been dead for 200 years. (Seriously, why do all the hot Fallout 3 guys have to be so…out of reach?) I'm going to stay away from the "songfic" trend that has become the norm for me and instead come up with my OWN chapter titles, lolwutt. Anyways, I've had this idea in my head forever and I just had to get it down on paper. Um, computer screen. You know what I mean. In any case, my plotbunnies present…**

**DIGITAL CRUSH**

Prologue

"What do you mean, you're _leaving_?" Freddie's eyes were disbelieving, dismayed, even. Summer swallowed back a lump in her throat and forced herself to continue. She nodded.

"I have to, man," she told him. "There's no choice. I'll die if I stay here! And besides…I have to find my dad. He's the only family I've got."

"Summer, don't," he pleaded. "You can stay with me! My dad'll vouch for you, you can stay with us—you can—maybe you could…"

He trailed off. It was no good and he knew it.

"What about—what about…us?" he asked desperately.

She dropped her gaze, unable to stop the tears from forming anymore. He grabbed her hands and looked into her eyes, questioning.

"What will happen to you and me?" he reiterated.

"You can come with," she suggested weakly. But he shook his head.

"I can't, you know I can't, just like you can't stay. Just—"

She knew he was going to say something sappy and stopped him with a kiss. He fell silent. When they broke apart, he pulled her in for another, deeper kiss, and it was a while before they pulled away.

"Take care of yourself," he finished lamely. "Maybe…maybe we'll see each other again."

"Maybe," she said, although she knew that the odds of that were astronomical. As much as she wanted it to be true…it just was never going to happen.

"It's been fun," she finished sadly. "I just wish…you know…"

"Yeah."

"Bye, Freddie."

She disappeared around the corner, and for the first time in years, Freddie wanted to cry.

"Bye, Summer."

* * *

_two months later_

"You're back," he said. It was not a question. A statement.

"Yeah," she said softly. She didn't even know where to begin.

Maybe she'd just been out in the Wastes for too long, but he looked…remarkably different. No longer the boy who she'd sneak a glance at in class, no longer the teenager who she'd pulled into the storage closet after the G.O.A.T., nor the young adult who she'd said goodbye to just a month ago…no. He was a man now.

"You're…different," he offered, looking her over. And it was true. There was more dirt, new scars, and an all-around weathered look to her. Her eyes were different, too—haunted, hollow, even. It was like she'd seen things she would never forget.

"Things change."

It was amazing. For two months he'd been reciting to himself what he'd say if he ever saw Summer again, everything from relieved to angry to…sappy, even, but now, Freddie was utterly lost for words.

Finally, he abandoned his attempt at words and gathered her in his arms, kissing her like there was no tomorrow—like he'd never see her again.

Maybe that hadn't been too far off the mark.

Amata Almodovar, that bitch, wasted no time in banishing Summer from the Vault the moment she became the new Overseer. Infuriated and heartbroken, Freddie stormed up to her office and broke her nose.

He got two weeks in the jail for that one, but it didn't matter. All that did matter was the horrified, betrayed look in Summer's eyes when Amata had told her that she was never to return to Vault 101.

* * *

Summer left the Vault that day feeling utterly betrayed. Amata had been one of her best friends. Dammit, she had been her only friend. How could she have banished Summer from the only home she'd ever really known? Megaton didn't count for jack shit. What could possibly be the ramifications of her at least being able to return from time to time to check up on the state of affairs, and, indeed, Freddie?

Aside from that general feeling of being betrayed, there was the gutwrenching pain of never being able to see him again. It wasn't something she hadn't felt before, when she'd first left, but Summer was still sore at having to leave him behind. Two months, sure—but dammit, she loved him and it wasn't fair that Amata would go so far to tear them apart. It was as if the entire universe was working against her, and it felt awful.

She'd never been one to heal easily. When Paul Hannon had turned her down, she'd spent an entire week sulking, staring at herself in the mirror, and being all-around miserable. Was there something wrong with her? Was she ugly? Did he think she was a loser? Desperate questions that flitted through her mind but had no answer—or purpose—and now, she wondered if Freddie was going to move on. Would he forget her? Would he hold on? Would he, would he…all the what-if questions you weren't supposed to ask yourself, but were asked anyway.

She needed a distraction. Summer turned on her Pip-Boy, tuning in to GNR for the latest on the Wasteland, to take her mind off herself. Unfortunately, Three Dog was giving the latest on her.

"Don't let that revolving door hit you in the ass on the way out, kid."

That was all she caught.

_Fuck you, Three Dog.

* * *

_

**A/N: The prologue sets the stage for the main story. Summer is, for all intents and purposes, still a completely hormonal teenager. When it comes to love, all the intelligence in the world won't stop her from going utterly stupid. And when it's over...well, let's just say she shuts down and reboots. And it takes a long time.**

**Cue angst! Enjoy the rest of the story. :D**


	2. Contact

**A/N: I don't think this is necessary, but…SPOILER ALERT for Operation: Anchorage. So, the n00bz who haven't played it, read carefully. :p Also…what belongs to Bethesda belongs to Bethesda. I don't own Bethesda…maybe someday… In any case, let the literary antics begin.

* * *

**

1: Don't Bite Your Thumb At Me

She didn't leave her house for days, curled up on her bed and trying not to cry. She didn't answer if anyone ever came calling, had put Wadsworth in stand-by mode, and she'd tuned out of Galaxy News Radio, sick of hearing about her own exploits. All Summer could really think about was Freddie.

She thought of his sweet brown eyes and the way they shone when he laughed. She remembered the way his hands awkwardly groped at her that day after the G.O.A.T. and couldn't help but smile. Most of all she thought of his voice, how it was music to her ears and always brightened up her day. The simple notion that she would never see any of it again was enough to drive her insane, except that it didn't.

Finally, after almost a week of sulking, Summer forced herself back on her feet. She turned on her Pip-Boy, looking for something, anything, that might hint at something to take her mind off her own misery. The Enclave Radio station was offline, Galaxy News Radio was offering nothing new, and Agatha's radio station was just music…but what's this…?

A new broadcast had appeared on her Pip-Boy, probably sometime during her grief-stricken stupor. Curious, she listened to it, hoping that it wasn't some indecipherable garbage like that which had gotten her stuck on an alien spaceship.

Thankfully, it was nothing of the sort. As Summer listened, she felt the thorn of interest poking at her more and more insistently.

"_This is Defender Morrill. Any Outcasts listening on this frequency report to sector 7-B, Bailey's Crossroads. This is a high-priority message; backup is needed at our location. Any personnel listening on this frequency please report at once. This message repeats…"_

She turned off the frequency, scowling. Trading with the Outcasts at Fort Independence had netted her a healthy share of valuable commodities such as stimpaks and Rad-Away, but hadn't improved in any way, shape, or form her opinion on those Brotherhood rogues. They were invariably arrogant, over-teched, and infuriatingly certain that their own selfish aims were for the good of everyone in the Wasteland. However, she knew enough about them to know that they also turned away what most Wastelanders would not dare to waste, and usually pushed things like ammo and frag grenades onto people like her. In two words, good payment. In many, their trash was everyone else's treasure.

Any help they might need would probably be rewarded. Besides, what else was there to do? It wasn't as if she wanted to go to Vault 87 any more than the next guy…or girl, as the case may be.

Summer pulled up her map and carefully marked the location of Bailey Crossroads, scrolling over the GPS generated layout of the Capital Wasteland. Quickly marking out a general route, she went downstairs and suited up in her usual olive green Regulator duster before picking out her weapons—a modified Chinese assault rifle, the 10mm pistol that Amata had given her a lifetime ago, and a combat knife strapped to her boot. In usual circumstances, she would take the rifle she'd found on the spaceship, but she didn't care to over-excite any rabid Outcasts with the unknown technology that probably powered the gun. Summer checked her reflection once in the dirty, scavenged mirror taped to the wall and headed out the door.

* * *

By the time Summer reached the highway, her feet were aching and any semblance of a cheerful mood had long dissipated. Thankfully, the old road was mostly devoid of Raiders, feral dogs, and other variations of your friendly Wasteland neighbors. Her ammunition was still plentiful when she arrived at where her Pip-Boy said Bailey Crossroads Metro was…

And the entrance had been caved in by rubble. Just my luck, she thought bitterly. She poked through the caved-in rock, hoping to find an opening to squeeze through and open the chain gate, but only a few seconds of looking made her realize that was quite impossible. Summer looked around, searching for another opening to exploit, and her eyes fell on a door in the building adjacent to the subway entrance. Smiling wryly, she tested the handle. Thankfully, it was unlocked, and she slipped through with little to no problem.

The door closed behind her and Summer found herself in the service tunnels of the metro station. She shouldered her assault rifle. Metros usually meant trouble, be it in the form of feral ghouls, Raiders, Super Mutants, or, heaven forbid, Mirelurks. So when the putrid smell that usually preceded a feral ghoul attack assaulted her nose, she was extremely glad for her vigilance.

There weren't many, mind you—just two or three on the platform above the escalators. They were easy enough to take down, but no matter what the circumstances, fighting these irradiated…zombies (for lack of a better word) was always unnerving. In any case, Summer emerged on the other side of Bailey's Crossroads panting slightly.

Almost immediately the noises of an array of heavy weapons reached her ears. She came up the escalator slowly, not wanting to be the victim of unintentional friendly fire.

In her limited experience with the Brotherhood of Steel outcasts, Summer learned that she didn't like them, much. Granted, she had no qualms with trading power armor for stimpaks and ammo, such as was the deal, but Henry Casdin wasn't the kind of guy she would ever buy a drink. The Outcasts were too cocky and self-righteous for her taste overall.

Predictably, when she emerged at the top of the escalator and found herself face-to-face with a man clad in red and black power armor, she wasn't exactly thrilled about what she'd gotten herself into. Payment or not, Brotherhood Outcasts were a huge pack of assholes.

"What in the hell are you doing here, local?" he demanded in the condescending voice she'd grown to expect when dealing with Outcasts. Resisting the urge to retch, she met his eyes…well, optics, with confidence.

"I got your radio signal," she explained a little haughtily. She'd hauled ass for the entire morning to get here. _Give me some credit, you prick._

"How the hell did you get our signal?" he asked incredulously, but then he saw something—her arm, probably—because he said, "Oh. You've got one of those wrist-mounted computers. How about that. Okay, local," he said resignedly. "If you help us clear out the muties from here to the base, and then we'll talk."

"Can't wait," Summer said dryly. "Where to start?"

Without waiting for an answer, she brushed past him and flipped off the safety, sighting her first target. The rifle barked three times and the unarmored Super Mutant collapsed, a gaping hole in its chest. And just like that, she was locked in. The larger clip on her rifle meant that she could rock n' roll for longer, and besides, it was much more accurate with less recoil. She wondered who had been the one to modify it—she owed them a drink, and probably a handshake too. Ever since she'd found it on some dead schmuck at Jury Street Metro Station, the thing had never let her down.

Though she probably had the ammo, skill, and means to go full-on Leroy Jenkins on the mutants' asses, Summer hung back with her rifle to provide supporting fire. It wasn't as if she wanted to waste any more ammo and blood on the Outcasts than she had to. She followed the power armored soldiers through a ruined building, where a combination of muties and centaurs were waiting with an array of weapons. When the gunfire died, she found herself at the top of a ramp leading into a ruined plaza with a single large elevator in the center.

An Outcast wielding a Gatling laser brushed past her. "Defender Morrill will want to speak with you now."

She raised an eyebrow at the man's retreating back and continued down the ramp. Another Outcast, this one with a minigun, was waiting for her at the bottom.

"Defender Morrill, I presume," she said cooly.

He gave no sign as to whether she was correct, but when he started talking she accepted that she was probably right. "Okay, local. Mind telling me what you're doing here?"

Summer crossed her arms. "I got your signal," she said.

"You got my signal? How—oh. You've got one of those computers. Interesting."

"This?" Summer held up her Pip-Boy like a little boy showing his friend a pristine new toy. "It' my Pip-Boy 3000, and no, you can't have it."

"Hey, I'm not asking for it," protested Morrill defensively. "But you got my signal, and you've got that computer, so that makes you a person of interest for us. We've got a job that needs doing. Why don't you go down the elevator, and Protector McGraw will brief you."

"And if I don't want to go?" She didn't trust these people, and it was clear that the feeling was mutual.

"You don't have to talk to McGraw, but I'd say it's in your best interests."

"Is that a threat?" She rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. I'll hear what this guy has to say."

"Great," he said sarcastically. "I'll radio ahead that you're coming."

He started talking to someone on the other end of his commlink and Summer, left to her own devices, approached the elevator and activated what she presumed was the switch. With a resounding screech, the elevator descended down the concrete shaft, passing two blast doors. As she came down, she heard muted voices arguing.

"…all I'm saying is, why don't we just ice the chick and use the computer ourselves?"

"McGraw gave us orders. It's that simple."

"C'mon, man. You really gonna let McGraw screw us over like this? Again?"

Her blood ran cold. If they were really planning on screwing her over…she reached for her assault rifle. She would sure as hell take at least a few of these power-armored pricks with her if they tried. But just then the elevator stopped at a fourth blast door, which opened with a loud grating of metal.

A man with no helmet turned to her, his eyes distrusting. "Okay, local. Keep your weapons holstered, your hands to yourself, and your mouth shut. Follow me."

"Okay, I'm coming," Summer muttered. "Jeez, take a chill pill."

"What the hell did I say?"

She gagged and followed the Outcast through the base, her eyes sweeping the corridors for a possible escape route should things go awry. She almost didn't notice when the Outcast turned right, through some doors into a room with several terminals and containers. A red-haired man with a beard that reminded Summer of Three Dog was waiting, his eyes guarded and cautious. It made her wonder if that was part of the Outcast doctrine, for your eyes to look guarded and cautious at all times. In any case, he approached her.

"So you're the local Morrill sent down," he said. It wasn't a question. A statement that wanted no confirmation—evidently, her Pip-Boy was enough. "I wouldn't trust a local to do more than shine my power armor, and even that's pushing it. But you've got that computer, and that makes you a valuable character."

Great, Summer thought sardonically. Here's a chance to show off my staggering intellect. "So I've got this Pip-Boy, and that makes me valuable to you in some way," she said, eyebrows furrowed mockingly as if she were deep in thought.

"So you do have half a brain," McGraw replied with an equal amount of sarcasm. "Good. Well, this isn't going to be easy. If you don't want to do it, the door's always open for you to leave…but if you can make it, I'll make it worth your while."

"I'm listening."

"We got intel that there's a cache of very valuable tech somewhere on this base," he said. "But we can't get to it. To unlock the door, you'd have to go through a simulation, but none of us have the technology needed to use it. You do, right there on your wrist."

"Simulation? Like…a computer game?" she asked tentatively.

"Not exactly. It's the reclamation of Anchorage, Alaska—a combat sim. Safety protocols are off, and if you were to die in the simulation, you'd go into cardiac arrest.

"However, if you can make it through the sim, and unlock that door, you get first dibs on whatever tech we find in there. How does that sound?"

Summer thought about this for a while. Why the hell not? It wasn't as if she was a complete combat novice, at least not anymore. Besides, whatever tech was stored on this base was probably something she could use…or sell, if she didn't want it. She found herself nodding.

"I'll do it."

He clapped his hands together, looking relieved. "Great! Sibley here will take you to Specialist Olin, who'll give you the run-down on how this is going to work."

Sibley? Summer craned her neck and saw the guy who'd taken her to McGraw, still scowling behind them. Oh. _That_ asshole.

Sibley nodded mutely and jerked his head at Summer, beckoning for her to follow. He took her further down the hall, to a room largely occupied by what appeared to be a pre-war simulation pod. Behind it was a woman dressed in Brotherhood scribe robes, typing away at a terminal.

"Knock, knock, Olin," sneered Sibley. "Got a new best friend for you! Hope you don't screw up with her like you did the last one. Heh."

Olin turned around, contempt written all over her face. "Go to hell, Sibley. You know that wasn't my fault."

"Whatever. Just get this over with, I want to get out of here as much as you do."

He left, the scribe staring daggers at his retreating back. When he was out of sight, the Specialist turned to her "new best friend."

"_You're_ here to help?" she asked. "Fine, put on this neural interface suit and sit down in the pod. Let's get this done and over with."

"Thanks," muttered Summer, taking the outfit from her. It fit alright, with a few parts a little too tight for her liking, but hopefully that was normal. She dropped her things in the footlocker that Olin had provided and climbed into the simulation pod.

"Be careful," she cautioned. "If you do die in this simulation, you'll die in real life. And…well, good luck, I guess."

"Thanks, I guess," Summer shot back. Olin didn't have time to counter with a stinging retort, because she had to return to her terminal and monitor Summer's life signs. The pod closed with a hiss.

_This is kind of like the G.E.C.K.,_ she thought. Except different. There was a quiet electrical hum, followed by a steady beeping that she knew was her heartbeat. And then the world went white.

The first thing she became aware of when she came to was the cold, and a voice whispering urgently in her ear, patting her face gently.

"Come on! Snap out of it!"

Her eyes fluttered open and Summer found herself confronted with a pair of soft hazel eyes, staring down at her with concern. As her vision cleared, she registered the handsome face of a young soldier, flustered from the cold and supporting her in his arms. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Only one thought occurred to her right then.

_Is this _really_ a combat sim?

* * *

_

**A/N: The rifle Summer uses, if anyone is wondering, is the unique Xuanlong Assault Rifle. It's a great starting weapon, dealing more damage than the usual Chinese Assault Rifle and with a larger clip of 36 rounds. It can be found by following the "breadcrumbs" in the quest Jiggs' Loot. (Full walkthrough on The Vault is available if you want the gun.)**


	3. Below Freezing

**A/N: Hoooly crap. What a freaking hiatus and I'm sosososoosososo sorry! I hope this is okay. I'm going to be more punctual in the future! I hope. But I can't give any more false promises.**

**You see, when I plan a story, I usually have a situation I'd really like to see in print. The rest of the story is molded around that event, and when it doesn't work out, my inspiration freezes like piss in the Arctic winter. I've got the entire end of this story planned out, but as for the beginning…*bzzt.***

**Oh, by the way, if I get the layout of the maps wrong, just…bear with me. I'm riding on my own wave here.**

2: Below Freezing

A strong arm gripped hers. Summer returned the grasp and grunted a little as the man pulled her back to her feet, looking worried.

"That was a hell of a fall you took," he informed her. "When your chute bunched up like that…I thought you were a goner."

Her lips parted and she tried to tell him that she was fine, but she couldn't quite focus on anything past his brown eyes. They were just like Freddie's.

The world seemed to sway for a moment and then he was there, supporting her with strong arms. Frowning slightly, he steadied her.

"You okay?" he asked anxiously. "There's no pulling out now."

Summer shrugged off his helpful grasp and nodded. "I'm okay, sir," she managed to say. He nodded.

"I don't think they saw our approach, so we can still go on as planned," he continued. "It's you call, Gunny; you can go in quiet or guns blazing. We'll meet up at the rendezvous point as planned. "

She nodded. "Okay."

He clapped her on the shoulder. "See you later, skipper."

He turned away and his eyes scaled the rock face in front of him, evaluating it. Summer watched in disbelief as he came to an unspoken consensus with himself and began to climb, nimbly maneuvering up the almost sheer rock face. Her heart skipped a beat and her hands flew to her mouth when he slipped, hanging by one hand, but he regained his footing. Soon, he was out of her sight.

She stood there, staring after him for a brief moment, but she hastily gathered her wits. Blushing, she realized that she didn't even know his name. She hadn't asked, and it probably would have been awkward to do so. Instead, her eyes fell on a giant pool of fabric a few feet away. She hefted it up the best she could; it was much heavier than she would have guessed from just looking at it. Grunting under its weight, she tossed it aside. There was a name stitched onto the inside.

SERGEANT BENJAMIN MONTGOMERY

Benjamin Montgomery. Summer mouthed the words. The name flowed well for being so damn_ long_. Blushing furiously, she pulled the fabric thing higher. _So this must be what he called a "chute"_, she thought. What was it for? It was certainly much too bulky to bring into combat—maybe it was some sort of camouflage?

If it was, she wasn't about to go around carrying it. Sighing, Summer dropped it back onto the cliffs and looked around. She walked over to the cliff and looked up, wondering if maybe she could follow Montgomery up. It was impossible; she had never climbed anything like this or, indeed, anything at all. She wondered if she, too, was supposed to scale it. _Crap._

Grumbling, she turned away from the rock face and turned her head to see a single figure patrolling the edge of the cliff a hundred yards or so away from where she was standing. She strained her eyes. McGraw had said that this was a sim of the Anchorage reclamation. He was probably not an ally. _Better safe than sorry, she thought_. Summer felt around her belt for a weapon and came up with a 10mm pistol. She swore. Really—was she supposed to be fighting the Chinese with this? _What a load of crap. _

She had nothing else except for a Stealth Boy and some sort of combat knife, welded to a set of spiked knuckles, it looked like. She grinned when she saw the Stealth Boy. She'd just discovered the wonder of those antiquated things in the real world, maybe she could put some skills to work in this sim.

Summer knew from experience that the power supply for Stealth Boys was finite (and had come away from that experience with a few burns and broken ribs, but nothing permanent). She edged towards the soldier, hugging the rock face with her eyes drilled into his back. When she decided that she was close enough, she brandished the knife and activated the Stealth Boy. Quickly, she clamped a hand over the man's mouth and slit his throat. He let out a strangled gurgling noise before falling to his knees, and then the strangest thing happened to his body.

The Chinese soldier's corpse glowed bright white for a moment before disintegrating until there was nothing left, not even his gun. Summer ground her teeth. She'd wanted that gun; it was certainly better than the peashooter she had on her at the moment. She knew she'd have to find cover before the Stealth Boy ran out of power, so she hurried along, invisible.

A long metal catwalk stretched out across a yawning chasm, leading to what looked like a small compound on the other side. Summer snuck a glance over the side and gulped. She had never been this high up before. The tendrils of fear were starting to close around her. Gritting her teeth, she stepped onto the catwalk.

There was a loud metallic creak as the thing shuddered under her weight. Shaking with fear that the thing would collapse under her, Summer froze, arms shooting out to grab the guardrails. Her eyes darted wildly from side to side. It was a long way down. She couldn't even see the bottom, and the wind whipping her hair in her face didn't make things much better. Oh, God, what had she gotten herself into… She squeezed her eyes shut, hyperventilating.

Finally, she opened her eyes and realized that hey, she wasn't dead. That was good, at least. Eyes fixed on the other side, she broke into a run, almost tripping in her terror.

When she reached the other side, Summer reached out and caught herself against the opposite wall, gasping for breath. She didn't notice that her Stealth Boy was about to power down. She quietly ascended the stairs, trying to calm the manic pounding of her heart. She almost bumped into a Chinese soldier. Squealing in fright, she slashed out with her knife. Only luck would have it that she stabbed him in the neck; the man toppled over the edge, flickering into nothingness as it fell. She waited, wondering if she would hear the sickening crunch of bones, but the clatter of gunfire sent her up and dashing like a frightened rabbit. Summer tumbled down a set of stairs and one of her flailing arms grabbed a railing. Looking around, she realized that a) her Stealth Boy had expired and she was being shot at, and b) she had very nearly slid over the edge of the cliff in her panic.

_Some soldier you are_, she scolded herself. God _dammit_. Why didn't she know what to do? She could handle herself fine in the Wasteland. Well, kind of. But then again, she'd never been in a situation like this—trapped in a combat simulation in freezing temperatures, fighting an enemy long dead (or, according to Moira, fictional) was certainly a new one for her.

The gunfire had ceased. She peeked over the top of the stairs, only to recoil again when a bullet clanged off the metal an inch from her face. Gasping with fear, she looked around desperately for something to help her while trying to pinpoint the direction of the shots.

Her wandering fingers closed around a familiar object. She held it up; it was a frag grenade. Awesome, she thought. She had good aim with these things.

Meanwhile, her line of sight told her that there were two enemy gunners, both with Chinese assault rifles, closing in on her position. She looked up again briefly. If they got themselves into the bunker, she could flush them into a choke point with the grenade and finish them off with the pistol. Yes, that would work. She just needed to wait for a bit longer…

_Now!_

Summer chucked the grenade and was rewarded with the gratifying sound of metal clanging against metal. A moment later, an explosion rang out across the cliffs. When the noise had stopped echoing, Summer peeked up again.

The grenade had hit its mark, all right—both gunners were nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, she straightened up and looked around.

…Wait.

There were two Stealth Boys sitting on the crate where she'd found the grenade. Rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the situation and her blind panic, Summer picked up both Stealth Boys and continued on her way. She entered the small bunker where the two soldiers had met their ends, a brief reprieve from the unforgiving wind outside.

Again, the corpses were gone by the time she'd gotten there, along with their weapons. Summer ground her teeth in frustration. She wanted one of those damn rifles! She looked around for anything useful and her face broke into a smile when her eyes lit on a Chinese Assault Rifle. Perfect, she thought as she picked it up. She checked the mag; it was full. And there were plenty of extras to go around, too—she pocketed the spare clips. She smiled grimly. Now she was in business.

Exiting the bunker, Summer felt the sense of euphoria from finding the rifle die as she found herself faced with another bridge, this time built on a massive pipe. Her heart was pounding. Again? This had to be some kind of bad dream. In a way, it was.

No sooner did she steel herself to take a step forward that a bullet clanged into the wall right next to her head. With a startled shriek, she twisted away and landed on her ass, holding her face even though it was unscathed. Shakily, she got up—a stupid move, she realized—and looked around.

There was no sign of the Chinese, which convinced her that a sniper was lying in wait on the cliffs. She sighed in frustration. Below freezing temperatures, a sketchy suspension bridge, and an unseen sniper all equaled—what was it called again?—FUBAR in her book. She carefully assessed the distance between her and the other end of the bridge. If she could swallow her fear and not fall over the side, maybe she could run across. There was less chance of the sniper hitting her that way.

Taking a deep breath, Summer launched herself across the bridge. The other side seemed to edge away from her as she ran, getting farther and farther with every step she took. The cold, dry Alaskan air tore at her lungs and the rifle bounced painfully against her back and she thought that she would collapse when finally her feet hit the rocks and she fell to her knees, coughing and gasping for breath.

What a soldier you'd make, she scolded herself. This wasn't the Wasteland anymore, but it was still a war zone.

As she sat there catching her breath, Summer dimly registered the Stealth Boys in her pocket and realized that she could have used one and taken her sweet time. Fail and double fail. No, really. Sighing, she got to her feet and looked up at the sheer cliff, trying to locate the sniper. There was no sign of him—either he was gone (unlikely) or he was very good at staying out of sight (much more likely). She briefly raised her rifle, wondering if she could maybe get a shot out and take him down, but in the end decided against it. She wasn't here to smite the Commies. She was here to get this over with, get her loot, and leave.

A small path diverted from the edge of the cliff and continued to a large steel door. She approached it and was about to open it when a flash of movement caught her eye. Slowly following it, she turned to see nothing there. She frowned. She could've sworn she'd seen something…wait…

The air seemed to shimmer before her, like someone was under the influence of Stealth Boys. Her perception had gotten pretty sharp over her time in the Wasteland, and she thought she could see a sniper rifle jutting out over the cliff. So this was the sniper, then, she thought. Well. This asshole was going to get it.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, she crept up behind the shadow and lashed out with her foot, feeling a sense of accomplishment when it connected with something heavy. She heaved and then there was a scream as it tumbled over the edge of the cliff. Summer looked over just in time to see its cloak sputter and fail. It—he—was wearing some sort of stealth suit. He landed hard on the cliff, where his body quickly disappeared.

Smiling to herself, she pulled the door open and slipped inside. Epic kickass moment achieved—now for the getting the hell out…and maybe the getting to know that hot Sergeant before she left. She hoped that she would see him soon.

* * *

**A/N: This feels so anticlimactic. I promise to hurry up with chapter 4. :D That's all I can give ya right now, unfortunately.**


	4. Roger? I Barely Know Her

4: Roger? I Barely Know Her

The sound of a zipper being pulled down pulled Summer from her lusty stupor and back into reality.

"Freddie!" She giggled, pushing him gently. "Not here, people will see!"

"Let them," he breathed, leaning in for another kiss. She met his lips briefly before gently pulling away.

"No, Freddie," she said firmly, her voice still husky.

"Aw, come on, Summer. You're really going to shut me down again?"

"No—" She paused, thinking. "After the G.O.A.T.," she decided. "We'll see then."

"The G.O.A.T.?" he demanded playfully. "You're going to make me wait that long, baby?"

"You know what they say," she teased him, getting to her feet and zipping up her jumpsuit. "All good things are worth waiting for."

She left the room with a final wink. Freddie sat down on the bed, flustered and a little disappointed, but at the same time excitement raged in his chest.

Amata caught up to her in the hallway. Her brown eyes glinted with mischief. "You and Freddie, huh?"

"Not a chance," Summer lied, blushing. She fixed her eyes straight ahead.

"What do you take me for, a blind Radroach?" she pressed. "Come on. Pretty much the only person in the Vault who doesn't know is your _dad_."

Summer froze. "Don't you _dare_ tell him," she said suddenly, panic rising in her chest.

"Hey, relax!" Amata patted her friend on the back. "Nobody's telling anyone."

She relaxed. "Okay, because that would be _awkward_."

Amata was quiet for a moment, then she piped up again. "Oh, by the way—Butch wanted me to tell you not to fuck him until after the G.O.A.T."

"Fuck who, _Butch_?"

"_No_! Ew, of course not! I mean Freddie, for Christ's—"

She trailed off and, looking up, Summer saw why. Her dad had just turned the corner and was giving both girls an odd look.

There was a very awkward silence as they stared each other down. Finally, Summer cleared her throat.

"Hey, Dad," she jibbed, trying not to laugh.

"Hi, sweetie," he said, chuckling a little. "Amata," he acknowledged the Overseer's daughter. He walked past them and turned the corner.

As soon as he was out of earshot, the two girls burst into hysterics.

* * *

Summer closed the door behind her and quietly sighed in relief, happy to be away from the biting wind. In here, it was still cold but at least ice wasn't whipping her in the face. She shouldered her rifle and took a moment to figure out where she was.

She was in a bunker, apparently occupied by Chinese—it would only make sense; given her knowledge of the War, the Reds had almost completely occupied Anchorage at this point. She proceeded on with her newly acquired rifle ready, her footfalls barely making a sound on the metal floor. The bunker gave way to a large cave, illuminated by a hole in the ceiling that filtered in sunlight. Summer slowed her footsteps and quickly ducked behind a boulder when she heard the clatter of gunfire. Her eyes flicked upward just in time to see a body tumbling from the hole and hitting the ground, hard. It was not lost on her that the unfortunate soldier was wearing the same armor that she was. Her heart leapt to her mouth.

_What if that was Sergeant Montgomery?_

She couldn't go and check the body, because the sim made it disintegrate, but if he was dead—oh, she was sure as hell going to avenge him. She was going to avenge him _so hard_.

She peeked around her boulder to see that there were two soldiers patrolling the cave. Two. Easy. She popped out of cover and took them both down with a spray of gunfire. Straightening up, she made sure she was safe before looking around for things to loot.

Her eyes lit upon a heavy, elaborate-looking energy weapon lying in the snow. Her Wasteland curiosity kicked in and she picked it up, turning it over. It looked like a sniper rifle, but in…laser form, she presumed. It was powered by microfusion cells. She peered down the scope.

A clatter of gunfire made Summer spin around, heart pounding and still clutching the rifle. One Red soldier was standing at the stairs. Panicking, she hastily aimed the mystery weapon and let loose. There was a metallic clang and the gun kicked back so hard that it hit her in the stomach. She staggered back, her arms feeling like they'd been jerked out of their sockets. She landed hard on her ass, praying that he would be quick about killing her.

Thankfully, her assailant had gotten the brunt end of the gun. He was sent flying, hitting the rock wall hard before sliding to the ground and disintegrating into a flickering digital nothingness. Shuddering and gasping for breath, she got to her feet, staring at the gun.

"Holy shit," she said aloud. "I'm holding on to this thing."

She strapped it on her back. It wasn't too heavy. Just as well. If it were this powerful, it must come to good use sometime. As she straightened up, she caught something in her peripheral vision and turned. There was a small dugout in the wall of the cave, lit by a single lantern and walled off partially by a stack of sandbags. Curious, Summer went to investigate.

It was empty except for a couple of grenades and microfusion cells accompanied by a Stealth Boy on a crate. She picked them up and slipped them into pockets, proud of herself at her find. As she was turning to leave, she saw something else. A holotape, looking newer than the ones she found in the Wasteland but still weathered from the cold, was lying on one of the sandbags. She'd always had a thing for holotapes. Summer picked it up and listened. What she heard forced her to bite back a lump in her throat.

_Molly, I hope this tape gets to you, someway somehow. I don't have a lot of time, but you need to know what happened to me._

_The early reports weren't bullshit. The Chinese are here. As in, they're invading Anchorage, in force. Right now!_

_This is the real deal. It makes Pearl Harbor look like an academy exercise. I've never seen so many goddamned warships._

_Sergeant Lowry has ordered the platoon to assemble in the mess in fifteen minutes._

_The plan is to dig in on the cliffs, and slow the Chinese advance until the civilian contractors can evacuate._

_And then... Then we hold the line, for as long as we can. I talked to Durney, Ciello, and Dallas, and we all agreed - surrender is not an option._

_I never told you, but... that night in Cleveland? On the ferris wheel? That was when I fell in love with you._

_Goodbye Molly. I... I'm sorry._

_This is Private First Class Henry Hodges, signing out._

She listened a couple more times, cold nostalgia piercing her skin and chilling her to the bone. It sounded hauntingly familiar to the things she'd have wanted to say to Freddie if she'd ever saw him again. She wished she could have had the time to tell him about what she saw outside of the Vault, how it changed her. Could she even remember when she'd fallen in love—not just simple infatuation—with him? Could she tell him, if she'd ever asked?

Summer thought back to how much he'd been through and that Sergeant Montgomery, feeling guilt stab at her chest. Should she be thinking about him, looking at him like that, when she was in a simulation and her heart belonged to someone else? Who would ever find out?

She held the holotape in her hand, weighing it in her palm. Finally, she flicked her wrist and tossed it into the snow, cracking it under her boot. The words in the tape hit too close to home.

Presently Summer continued on her way, holding the rifle and ascending a set of stairs on the opposite end of the cavern. It led into another bunker, which opened into a small room with a maze of ventilation ducts on the ceiling. It was empty. She was about to continue when a clanging sound from overhead almost made her jump out of her skin. Clutching her rifle to her chest, she slowly backed away before relaxing a little bit, realizing who it was.

Sergeant Benjamin Montgomery—that was his name, right?—dropped rather gracefully from an opening in the vents and straightened up, not even bothering to dust himself off. She couldn't help but wince inwardly—wasn't it dirty in those vents? There was a smudge of dirt on his face and the overpowering urge to reach out and wipe it off almost became unbearable. But she restrained herself. _A battlefield is the wrong place to entertain the OCD, Summer. _

"Perfect timing," he remarked. "Damn place is swarming with Reds. I almost didn't make it. Didn't know they were that good with a sniper rifle."

"Neither did I," agreed Summer, thinking of the man on the bridge. "Glad you made it here okay."

"Yeah, you and me both," he said, grinning a little. "So, what's our next move?"

"Um." She balked. She had no idea what the plan was. She hadn't been told there was a plan. Did it have something to do with the explosives on her belt? Were they supposed to blow something up? And was it just her, or was it getting really hot in here? She could feel a blush creeping up her face, which only grew deeper when she caught sight of the knowing glint in the sergeant's eyes, misinterpreting her pause for something completely different.

* * *

"McGraw, I think we might have a problem." That was Olin, peering at the controls with a concerned look on her face. The Outcast leader stepped closer, curious.

"What's up, Olin?" he asked.

"Her vitals," she replied. "Heart rate and stress levels are climbing. And by the look of it she's not in combat."

"Maybe it's a malfunction?" mused McGraw. "You know what happened to the last guy."

The specialist winced. "Don't remind me. No, I don't think it's a malfunction. Should we pull her out?"

McGraw shook his head. "No," he said. "It's too important to abort now. If we tried, we might kill her, and you know damn well enough that we can't take that computer once she's dead."

"Understood." Olin sighed and shifted back to the controls. She thought back to the body in the other room, the one with the missing arm, and shuddered. She just hoped she wasn't making a big mistake.

* * *

"I, erm…I wasn't aware there was a _plan_."

Montgomery's lips curled into a smile and he laughed a little. "Go figure," he joked. "I suppose that's what happens when we entrust a little lady like you with something this important. Or maybe it was the fall."

She scowled and stuck her tongue out at him.

He sighed, but not exasperatedly. "Should I just give you the Sparknotes version?"

Summer had no idea what Sparknotes were.

"Alright, we're going to keep going through this compound, eliminate any Reds we see, and get to the artillery guns on the overlook. Then, you'll attach those charges and blow those things to hell."

"Uh, okay." She nodded frantically. "I think I can remember that."

"Great! Now, just a word of warning. We may or may not be encountering Crimson Dragoons."

She didn't know what that meant, either. She assumed that she was supposed to.

"So if you think you see something moving, shoot first and ask questions later or it might be the last thing you'll never see."

"Uhm." Summer wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "Got it, I guess."

"Alright, enough waiting around. Let's get moving, skipper, we've got a job to do."

"Roger," she muttered, without having the faintest clue what it meant. She'd just heard it before in pre-war flicks. Feeling like a complete fool, she followed his lead through the metal corridors of the bunker.

* * *

A/N: Nothing will be left to chance, nothing. XD Sorry for the chapter being relatively short for such a long wait! I promise that Chapter 5 will be up much sooner.


	5. Fire

A/N: First off, really sorry that this took forever. I get sidetracked really easily, and anyone who's seen me play Fallout 3 can attest to that. Anyhow, here's the next chapter. I can't guarantee better update speeds in the future, but I'll try to keep it reasonable.

5: You MAD?

Summer was now in the process of realizing what a Crimson Dragoon was.

Being attacked by something you couldn't see—to have a knife slashing at your face without being able to see the blade—would have to be one of the most terrifying things she had ever experienced. There was fear of death and pain, of course, but the basic, primal fear of the unknown was what made her almost lose control, terror threatening to take over. She backed up, firing her gun wildly and praying that she didn't hit Montgomery, wondering what she looked like with her brown eyes bolting with near panic. A few of her rounds hit her target, because the man's cloak flickered for a moment. Her left hand curled around the blade with the knuckles on her waist as an idea formed in her mind. She fired another shot, exposing her attacker momentarily as she dropped her gun and thrust the armed fist into the man's opaque glass mask, breaking it. She could finally get a good look at her attacker's face…she plunged the blade into his eye. He screamed in pain and she stabbed him again and again until he crumpled to the ground, finally still. Again, there was the digital disintegration of the body. Even the blood on her knuckles flickered into nothing. She shuddered. She couldn't get used to it. _Bodies shouldn't disappear like that._

"Damn." Montgomery had caught up with her and was now staring at the spot where the Dragoon had disappeared, as if the body was still there. In his world, it probably was. "That was pretty stupid, if you ask me."

Summer shrugged. "It worked."

"True, but next time use your gun," he said curtly. "Or, I dunno, don't waste that many bullets. Are you hurt?" He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her chest for a fraction of a second too long.

"Not that I know of," she said. "Just a little shaken, that's all."

"I can't believe you didn't see that coming," he remarked as they made their way to the next staircase. "Their camouflage isn't perfect. It distorts the light, especially here."

"The light in here a lot like Vault lighting," Summer said offhandedly. Montgomery gave her an odd look and she automatically wondered if she'd said the wrong thing.

"You've been in one of those?" he asked curiously. "They just opened Vault 77 for exhibition, I heard. Was it that one?"

"What?" she stammered. Then she remembered. _No nuclear war yet, Summer_. "Erm…yeah."

"All this talk of nuclear war," he scoffed. "I think Washington is pulling it out of their ass. They're shitting themselves, there's no way in hell that any man with half a brain in his head would be willing to risk MAD just for the sake of some oil or uranium or whatever. Vaults?" he snorted. "Please. That's probably just Uncle Sam finding an excuse to reel in more money."

Summer laughed nervously. "I don't think so," she said. "Those claims might have some validity."

Montgomery sighed. "Shit, have you even seen those Vaults?" he said. "They're cutting edge, state-of-the-art technology! There's no way anyone could build enough of them to shelter everyone in the country! That's bullshit! And besides, if anyone went nuclear it'd mean the end of the fucking world. Mutually assured destruction, that's what they call it. I don't think Uncle Sam is _that_ stupid. I don't think any of those fancy-ass Senators in D.C. will fancy living in a nuclear wasteland."

Summer gave a nervous laugh. "What if they are?" she asked. "What if they're willing to take the risk?"

"Maybe," he grunted. "As far as I know, it's probably not going to happen. We had the same scare in the fifties. Guess we never really got over that chickenshit. But don't they have more important things to worry about? Like the prices of meat? My sister paid seventy bucks for a pound of ground beef the other day, and they ran out soon after. What kind of bullshit is that? I don't think anyone's getting enough to feed themselves at all. It's almost all going to feed the armies, and even we aren't getting much. If anyone tried a scorched-earth policy of any kind, we'd all be screwed."

"Scorched earth?" she echoed before she could help herself. The term sounded familiar, but not familiar enough.

Benji shot her a disbelieving look. "Seriously? It's a war strategy. Basically, 'If I can't have it, nobody can have it', that sort of thing. Salting the earth so nothing can grow, burning crops so the locals can't use them, torching oil fields...that sort of stuff. It's ugly."

"Gotcha," she said, feeling a little stupid. Noticing her discomfort, he abruptly switched gears.

"So, where you from?"

"Me?" Summer started panicking. She couldn't tell him she was from a Vault. Did she know the names of any pre-war settlements? "Georgetown," she said hastily, praying that she'd said the right thing. Sure, she lived in a ruin filled with Super Mutants. Like he'd never know the difference. "You?" She forced herself to act casual about it.

"Nevada," he responded, almost too quickly.

It took a hell of a lot of willpower to not ask him where Nevada was.

"That's cool," she said, trying to sound casual. "How's the weather there?"

She hadn't meant to ask that, she really hadn't, but suddenly she felt so embarrassed doing it. It was probably a stupid, horribly generic question. Oh God she'd probably blown it and what would he think...?

"It's as nice as it can get this time of year, I suppose," he chuckled dryly. "Nevada weather, you know. Gotta love the Mojave."

She laughed nervously, if only to seem natural. "Yeah," she said. _Whew._

She caught his eye and blushed. She would've looked away, but something kept her there and Summer had a rather embarrassing, but pleasant, revelation.

"You have beautiful eyes," she blurted out without thinking. Immediately, she regretted it. Her eyes went wide, she clapped a hand over her mouth, and she could feel her cheeks turning very, very red. He was taken aback at the question at first, a blush forming on his cheeks, too. But he rode the wave significantly better than she did. He raised an eyebrow, looking rather amused.

"I mean—well—uh…"

"Thanks," he said awkwardly, trying hard not to laugh. "I get that a lot."

"Oh," she said, searching desperately for anything to salvage the situation. "Well, uh…cool."

He raised his eyebrows at her, eyes twinkling. "You're not trying to hit on me, are you?"

"I—what? N-no," she stammered.

He clapped her on the shoulder. "It's okay," he joked. "Denial is the first step to acceptance."

"Uh…" She looked at him curiously. "What?"

"I'll explain later," he said, chuckling. "Come on. We have a job to do."

She followed him up the stairs, feeling more like an idiot than ever.

* * *

A/N: Did anyone notice the pun in the chapter title? If so, internets for you.


End file.
